


Witching Hour

by Sinner_sister



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Blood Kink, Choking, Cunnilingus, Doggy Style, Dominance, F/M, Kissing, NSFW, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Piano Sex, Pool Sex, Ritual Sex, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sex Magick, Teasing, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Wax Play, Witch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2020-12-17 16:43:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21057665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinner_sister/pseuds/Sinner_sister
Summary: A practiced witch sneaks into the courtyard of the Church of Ghost to perform a full moon ritual only to be interrupted by Papa Emeritus III himself. Over time, they begin to learn one another. After numerous trysts they come to see that they are two very compatible, albeit, emotionally distant people and perhaps they are capable of something deeper.





	1. Calling The Corners

**Author's Note:**

> As a witch, this is a personal fantasy of mine. So, although this is not something all of you will be able to relate to, I still wanted to make it public to share. Much love!

Phoenix knew she wasn’t supposed to be here, but she was known to live on the edge. Rules were meant to be broken, after all. The courtyard behind the church was an ideal spot for what she had planned and since no one really came out this way at night, she was certain she would be able to carry out her ritual uninterrupted. She walked at a leisurely pace, brittle leaves crunching beneath her bare feet. She turned her gaze up towards the sky. It was a clear night and the full moon was shining brightly overhead, washing over her ivory skin with a pale blue cast.  
When she reached the heart of the courtyard, she stopped and took it all in. A craggy oak tree hovered over a weather-worn concrete bench, its orange leaves dropping sporadically to the ground. It was a still night, brisk without a breeze. She inhaled deeply, taking in the faint perfume of the incense wafting from the church windows.  
The witch reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out 5 pillar candles and a ceramic container filled with sea salt. It didn’t take her long to assess the placement of her circle, each candle marking a cardinal direction. She allowed her black velvet cloak to drop from her shoulders and tossed it onto the cold earth just outside of her freshly made circle of salt. All she wore was a sheer black shift, her bare body easily visible underneath, a satin ribbon tied loosely around her waist.  
A lighter in her hand, she began to call the corners, casting her ceremonious circle, chanting deliberately as she lit each candle.  
  
“Ave Dea, mater terrae, et Deus, pater coeli.  
Ego te amplexo.  
Spatium hoc benedice!  
Orbem hunc ablue!  
Nobis imbrim medicum fer!” 

Phoenix was a practiced witch and on this night of the harvest moon, she was eager to call upon her the power of the goddess. The church courtyard was isolated by a circle of hedges that kept her mostly hidden from any potential bystanders. But she had borrowed the space for her rites for some time now and had gone undisturbed. Her chanting continued.  
  
“Ave elementum terrae!  
Ave specula septemptrionis!  
Ego te amplexo.

Ave elementum coeli!  
Ave specula orientis!  
Ego te amplexo.

Ave elementum ignis!  
Ave specula austri!  
Ego te amplexo.

Ave elementum aquae!  
Ave specula occidentis!  
Ego te amplexo.”

Her circle was cast and she removed a bottle from her bag. Popping the cork, she poured the fragrant water onto her hands and all over her shoulders, over her waist and down her legs. She ran the liquid through her long blonde hair and cupped her breasts gently, her nipples already alert at the brisk autumn air. She took a deep breath in but before she could continue, she heard a stirring in the bushes. 

Her mind instantly went to some woodland creature. Her magick often lured animals from their hiding spaces. But she could sense a different kind of energy looming nearby. She sat in the dirt, protected by her circle and unafraid. 

“Who’s there?” 

Phoenix demanded; her voice strong but just barely above a whisper. There was a pregnant pause and she stood up and took a small step towards the direction of the intruder. It was at the moment she saw him. He peeled from behind the overgrown hedge and approached the clearing, the moonlight groping hungrily over his face and shoulders. 

She had seen him before, but only from a distance and never out of his formal vestments. The black satin of his suit gleamed like the ocean beneath starlight and she couldn’t help but assess him from head to toe. She remained in her circle as he began to approach, his two-toned gaze locked on her in an almost predatory manner. She did not fear him but remained still within her circle, focused and sure of herself. 

When he reached the edge of her salt circle, the firelight of her candles began to flick aggressively, the rounded toe of his shoe barely grazing the salt line. His painted face gently twisted into a devilish smile as he went to take another step and she held up a single finger insistently. 

“You dare to break my circle, sir?” 

He chuckled, staring her up and down once more. 

“I do not fear your gods.” 

He chided gently, stepping into the circle and reaching for her, his gloved hand pressed firmly against the small of her back. The warmth of this stranger’s body was foreign but welcome as she stood nearly naked before him in the cold. She felt his fingers slide over her shift and along the rounded cheeks of her buttocks. She did not tense but rather pulled herself closer. If this full moon meant for her to dance with the devil, who was she to decline? He leaned into her, his lips nearly touching her ear.

“I have watched you for some time. Stealing away all hours of the night in my courtyard.” 

His Italian lyrics caressed her skin, warm and breathy. She closed her eyes and exhaled, exasperated at the sensation of heat against her flesh. Her breath dispelled steam into the crisp evening air. 

She said nothing, her hands reaching over the expanse of his back, like puppet strings controlled by another. 

“I thought it time to steal something for myself in exchange.” He said playfully.

His hand raced up her back and through her hair, gloved fingers tangled in the blonde mass possessively. He tugged on the golden tendrils, pulling her head backwards and exposing her milky neck. She moaned fervently.

"And why have you waited until now to intervene?" Phoenix asked him calmly, her face turned up to the heavens, eyes closed.

"Up until now, watching was magic enough. But I feel I could...contribute."

As he spoke the last word, she felt his fingers toy with the satin ribbon at her waist. He gave it a gentle tug and it drifted to the cold earth, coiling like a sleeping snake around her feet. The shift was loose upon her shoulders and with just a bit of coaxing, it quickly joined the ribbon on the ground, leaving her completely bare in front of him. Her eyes locked on his lips, shoulders rising and falling with her quickening breaths. The anticipation was exquisite and this was not at all how she intended this evening to go. But he carried himself with such confidence--such dominance. There was no resisting it. His gloved hand reached for her breast, round and firm, plucky, pink nipples standing at attention as if to greet him. He twirled it between his fingers and flashed a sly grin. She felt her breath catch in the back of her throat at the feeling of his pinching grip tightening over her. She heard the metallic whisk of his pants zipper and realized that his other hand had been addressing his own wardrobe silently. She had been so caught up in the moment, she had yet to notice til now. The buttons of his shirt were neatly undone, exposing his bare flesh to her and the moon. She bit her lip at the sight of him and placed her palms on his chest. She was met with an accented breath from him, slightly startled at the feeling of her cold hands. She smirked.

"And what shall I call you?"

She asked him, curling her fingers, allowing her black nails to dig slightly into his alabaster skin. She heard him growl under his breath. He was clearly a glutton for erotic punishment. They shared as much in common. 

"Papa. You will call me Papa."

He commanded, grabbing her suddenly from the back of her thighs and hoisting her up onto his hips. Her legs instinctually wrapped around his waist, her hands gripping around his neck and into his hair as she crashed her lips into his, eager to taste him. While one of his hands supported her weight, the other made its way up her spine and in a blink, he laid her onto the ground. Her hair spilled into the dirt and over the salt line of her circle. The feeling of the cold earth on her back was exhilarating. He wasted no time as he pulled himself from his pants. He hovered over her, her legs spread in acceptance. Reaching down, she searched for him, wanting to learn more of what he had to offer but unable to see as she was strewn about upon the dirt floor. In gracious assistance, Papa took her wrist in his hand and guided her grasp to his swollen member, the heat of it melting her palm instantly. He leaned down and began to kiss the side of her breast, barely lapping his tongue against her flesh and worked his way around until finally taking her hard nipple into his mouth. She sighed gratefully.

His cock still firmly in her hand, she raced her grip along his shaft, thick and substantial. She swiftly lifted herself off of the dirt, sitting up and forcing him to roll onto his back. The look on his face was pleasantly surprised. Her knees in the dirt, she straddled his waist, hands searching over his chest and then around his neck. She gripped his throat firmly in a choking manner and Papa bit his bottom lip in approval. She leaned over him, her breasts swinging in his face, hands leaving his throat and spreading onto the dirt and over his head. She grabbed her South appointed candle, aligned with the element of fire. The flame danced upon the wick and Papa raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her next move. Phoenix leaned down and gently touched her lips on his as a bee would touch a rose bud, creating a delicate 'plipping' sound.

"And you will call me Phoenix."

Without another thought, she leaned back and flicked her fingers over his firm, tawny nipples, pinching slightly. With the other hand, she held the candle and began to slowly tilt it downwards. The flame glittered obediently as the pool of ivory wax began the shift on its axis. Papa watched brazenly, his hands groping her thighs as if in search of something. Phoenix was slow in her delivery, first allowing just one drop of wax to fall, landing haphazardly between his pecks. She grinned as his eyes never left the candle. She shifted her arm over and with the second drop of wax it landed just below his left nipple. She felt him tense beneath her. With one remaining tilt of the candle, the wax began to drip in an agogic stream. She started at his chest and traveled down to his navel and the lower she went, the more Papa squirmed and moaned. Placing the candle on the ground, she took his cock back in hand, only this time guiding it to her mouth. He sighed, closing his eyes as she took his length deep into the back of her throat. She was slow and deliberate in her technique, swirling her tongue around the rosy head and popping it like a lollipop from her ruby red lips. With each motion of her head, Papa coupled with a subtle pulse of his hips.

"Ah, mio satana..."

Papa murmured quietly. Phoenix crawled upon him once again and in an instant, control was usurped from her. Papa rose in a heated frenzy, still seated with his legs crossed, grabbing her around the waist and aligning her over his cock. She could feel the insistent throbbing of his member against her wet, satin folds. Releasing the tension in her legs, she began to slide down on top of him. Her pussy swallowed the head of his cock earnestly and in an effort to savor the moment, she lifted herself only to slide down upon him once more. Papa watched as the tip of his cock slowly slid in and out of her and finally leaned his head back and opened his mouth with a moan. Phoenix could not help but admire him and the way the moonlight drenched his ebony hair. At that moment, she allowed herself to drop onto him completely. A sigh of relief washed over her and the grip of his fingers on her waist began to tighten at the sensation of being completely consumed. With a slow grinding of her hips, she could feel his cock deep inside of her. His hand ran up her shoulders and pulled her into his hungry embrace. His breathing and moaning in her ear brought her pace to quicken until she was bouncing up and down on him desperately wanting to drive him deeper. Her body began to tense and she felt a wave of warmth rise up as she released herself into orgasm, convulsing over his cock vigorously. 

She rolled from his lap, breasts meeting the soft earth, heaving breaths taking all of her focus. But Papa was not finished with her. Without missing a beat, he positioned himself behind her and placed his hands at her hip bones, lifting gently. She emitted an exasperated sigh but acquiesced to him. On her knees, ass in the air, she felt his hands sliding along the inside of her thighs. He sprinkled kisses down her spine and along her buttocks and his hand rose higher still until the tips of his fingers were sliding ardently along her clit. She closed her eyes and arched her back into him, her pussy wet with favor. She felt his lips grazing the flesh of her right cheek, commencing to bite her passionately. His tongue quickly replaced his fingers and he spread her legs wider to allow himself more space. He licked her slowly, tongue flat against her most sensitive spot. He stopped every so often to slide a finger into her casually. It was torturous and Phoenix was growing impatient. Papa could sense her restlessness and promptly entered her with his cock from behind. He slammed into her in willful thrusts and she felt herself quickly brimming on the edge of orgasm once again.

"Fuck me," she begged. "Fuck me harder, Papa!"

Papa happily obliged, drilling into her harder still, sending her into the throes of pleasure, only this time much more intense than the last. She felt him pull out of her and was met with his tongue yet again, sliding over her clit causing her to yelp and twitch, all her nerve endings on red alert at this point. But his tongue did not linger and traveled its way back, swirling around her asshole. She expended a sigh of relief and easy pleasure at the new sensation. His tongue explored her there long enough for her to catch her breath as Papa stroked himself leisurely. He pulled away and allowed his thumb to circle her pussy and lazily fall in and out of her. Phoenix rotated her hips around in circles in approval. He migrated to her asshole, his thumb circling lightly and entering her, testing the waters. Phoenix moaned softly into the mop of her hair that lay disheveled over her face. His thumb going in and out of her ass, deeper and deeper, still stroking himself all the while. 

"Yes," she breathed. "Yes."

This was the invitation he was hoping for. He gripped her hips with both hands and entered her pussy once again, this time more mechanically, as his mission was meant elsewhere. When his cock was wet and prepared, he removed himself from her and spread her cheeks, granting him better access. He spit gratuitously on his entry point and began to slowly shove himself inside of her ass. She inhaled deeply as he buried himself into her completely. His thrusts were different at first, slower, deeper. But his pace began to hasten as his grip on her hips grew tighter still. Next thing she knew, he was pounding into her in the most primal way, spanking her ass until her cheek was red from contact. Phoenix was crying out in ecstasy as Papa continued to drill into her. He began to grunt with each pump of his cock into her ass, beads of sweat collecting on his forehead and glittering in the moonlight and with one last thrust, he cried out, blasting his cum deep into her ass with a series of groans.

Pulling himself from her, they both collapsed onto the ground, exasperated from their efforts. After finally catching their breath, Phoenix gazed up at the moon which had shrunken slightly upwards into the pitch black sky since her arrival. Papa placed his hands under his head, a look of accomplishment donning his visage. They both stood after their brief moment of reflection and proceeded to dress. Phoenix collected her candles after closing her circle and placed all the items in her bag. 

"I believe this is yours."

He sauntered towards her, wrapping her velvet cloak around her shoulders and tying it ceremoniously around her neck. His eyes smiled, despite the serious expression of his countenance. She flashed him a mischievous grin. He tilted her chin upwards to kiss her softly on the lips, followed by a peck on the tip of her nose.

"I'll see you next month, la mia strega."

He turned on his heels and disappeared into the shadows.


	2. Jigolo Har Bagno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papa Emeritus III is met with a pleasant surprise in the bath house.

The days had been rather doldrum. Papa Emeritus III had found himself wandering the church halls just trying to find something to do. He had become quite bored as the days grew shorter in the colder months. The Sisters of Sin hadn’t piqued his interest in some time and he was frustrated—in more ways than one. He sat at his desk, tapping the quill on the edge of his scripture book, little splatters of black ink dappling the page’s edge.

“Fuck it.”

He murmured, wiping his black gloved hand across the ink droplets, smearing it across the page and making matters worse. He dead-panned at the smeared ink over his hand-written words and rolled his eyes. He rose to his feet and headed towards the window to gaze down into the courtyard, recalling that night several months ago. The tryst with the witch called Phoenix. That was the last time he had found pleasure. Granted, he had bedded numerous women (and men) since, of course, but it was all so mechanical and utilitarian. He could fuck this congregation in his sleep. In truth, it was possible that he had. He smirked; a glimmer of arrogance briefly overcame his countenance before he was met again with irritation.

Though there were beautiful harlots in the halls of the church to be had---Papa had grown so bored with the lot of them. They were all so falsely demure and eager to please. Too predictable. Too…rehearsed in their act of chaste. Papa leaned into the brick window casing, the cool flush of air from the poorly sealed glass chilling his painted cheeks. He recalled the bashful looks they flashed at him, how coy they were (or at least pretended to be), all assuming they were somehow 'different' or 'special' when in reality they were all the same. They called themselves Sisters of Sin?! The very thought of it erupted him into anger, as if he had been denied an unholy gift from Satan himself as some cruel joke at his expense.

He inhaled deeply, feeling deflated. With a decided nod, he made his way out of his office, his robes sweeping along the cobbled floor. He needed to let off some steam. The tension in his shoulders indicated the level of his stress and he knew the only way to alleviate it was a trip to the bath house. His pace was leisurely but focused, floating down the spiraled corridor to the lower level of the church. The torches created a dim light, their flames licking the stone walls in a fervent effort to illuminate the large space. Papa eyed the area and found no one. He was completely alone. Usually it bothered him to be without company, but since no one could satiate his desires, flying solo seemed to be the preferred alternative. Steam whorled from the water’s surface in a lazy lilt, indicating the promise of warmth. Papa began to disrobe, placing his formal vestments on the stone bench in the far corner of the room. He stood, naked, gazing down at the water before him. The basin of the large pool was painted black, making the water appear as an endless void. Taking to the steps slowly, he submerged one foot at a time, the heat sending shivers up his spine. The water was perfect—not too hot but not tepid. His alabaster skin flushed a soft pink hue as he acclimated.

The pool was large and equipped with stone seats around the inner perimeter. Papa sunk down, his shoulders fully immersed in the hot water for a moment, and made his way to the bench. The water dripped down his biceps and over his pecks and was met with the cool air of the bath house, giving him a brief chill. When he was seated, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. A small circular window allowed the light of the moon to shine into the dark room, creating silver streaks upon the water’s ripples. Breaking the silence, a sudden echo emerged from the corridor—like footsteps. Papa’s eyes opened slowly, and his attention was turned to the entrance from whence he had just come. He hadn’t seen anyone follow him but the sound of someone getting closer was undeniable. The steps were slow and calculated, reverberating against the old stone walls. He remained unmoved as he waited for the person to show themselves. But the footsteps stopped. Papa raised an eyebrow, perplexed but not curious enough to investigate. These halls were filled with ancient secrets and other-worldly beings. He didn’t give it another passing thought.

Leaning his head back once more, he closed his eyes to relax. A few minutes passed and his relaxation was broken with the uneasy feeling that he was being watched. He turned his gaze towards the doorway to find a black hooded figure looming silently. The unholy clergy shifted in his seat, resting his arms around the top of the pool, his breathing cool and collected. The figure was motionless. Papa waited. Finally, the black mass slowly crept towards the edge of the pool. Papa could not make out a face and was beginning to wonder if there was one.

When the figure was standing at the very edge of the pool, it stopped. Papa tilted his head to the side, eyes squinting as if to see better. Even in the pale cast of the moonlight leaking from the window, he could not make out an acquaintance. Slowly, a foot emerged from the cloak. Skin pale like milk, black lacquered nails and silver toe rings glittering over the water. The stranger’s foot touched the water lightly creating a ripple. With bated breath, Papa sat anxiously. In a motion like silk, the stranger dropped the hood and slipped the cloak from her shoulders, sending it cascading to the cobbled floor. Papa’s eyes widened, mouth slightly agape in shock.

“Mia strega…”

His words flowed from his exhale. He could not believe his eyes. How did she get in here? How did she know where to find him? He began to stand, but she held her hand up, demanding he remain seated. Papa grinned, his hands already burning to touch her. She dropped into the water like an eel, her skin like a china doll disappearing into the black abyss. He watched her intently, noting her supple pink nipples and his mouth began to water. Her aire of confidence and control was everything he needed in this moment. He recalled their first encounter in the courtyard that autumn night. He had caught her off-guard during her full moon ritual and had usurped control over her evening. It seemed, tonight, she would settle the score. She stood steadfast before him, eyes locked with his. Her hands plunged into the water and he felt her grip on his knees, her black nails like talons against his flesh. He heaved a heavy breath as her hands searched up his thighs and she leaned in closer, her lips brushing his ear.

“How I have missed you…”

She whispered, nibbling at his earlobe playfully. He groaned into her neck, sinking his mouth upon her, tasting her earnestly. He wanted to devour every part of her. His lips searched over her collarbone and took her breasts in his hands, sucking each of her nipples and kissing on the velvet skin beneath. His attention was diverted as she took his face into her hands, racing her fingers through his hair, pulling slightly. She crashed her mouth onto his and Papa met her kiss with fervent favor. His hands raced over her thighs and around her waist as if trying to stow away her very presence into his memory for later. Breaking their kiss, she pulled away and Papa could not hide the look of disappointment on his face for losing her lips from his. She relaxed her hips slightly, hovering just above his cock and it took all the power in his body to keep from throttling into her. But her hands sweeping over his shoulders stunted the urge momentarily.

“So tense, Papa. Has no one been tending to your needs in my absence?”

Just the sound of her voice sent him reeling. He melted into her grip as she began to massage his shoulders. This was unusual. A sensual massage was often a part of his repertoire, but he could not recall a time when he had been the recipient of such favors. Her touch was firm but kind. He dropped his head into her chest, his black hair falling listlessly around his two-toned face. Her fingers raced over his neck and down his back in small circular motions. Papa was paralyzed. This was a tenderness he had never known. This woman, this enchantress, had him enamored. He shivered as he felt her long fingernails trail up his neck and down his spine like a black widow spider. He dappled her chest with lazy kisses, intoxicated by her loving embrace. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her down onto him gently. He felt her knees buckle to oblige. She leaned in once more to kiss him and he slowly thrust his cock deep into her, the water around them rippling silently. She rode him leisurely and he did not rush her. Her head tilted backwards, and Papa moaned, consumed with an immense pleasure as he watched her astride him.

He closed his eyes and focused on the depths of her. Although surrounded by hot water, the intensity within her was hotter and wetter still, creating a flux in sensation that was sending his very body into ripples. The tightening of her muscles moving up and down upon his shaft was resplendent, the head of his cock tightly embraced by her feminine grasp. As he had gotten lost within her, he failed to notice her quickening strides upon him. Her breathing accelerated and he winced with pleasure as her nails dug into his shoulders. Papa took the lead, driving his cock upwards, matching her pace, his grip tightening around her ass. Moans fell from her mouth in rapturous ecstasy and Papa’s breath caught in the back of his throat as he felt her wet, velvet walls constrict around his cock in pulses. He wanted to burst into her but he refused to let it end so quickly. Her orgasm faded and she collapsed into him, her breathing quick and heavy. He ran his fingers delicately down her shoulders and her back, softly trailing down the crack of her buttocks. To his surprise, she shivered with a giggle, this fire breathing woman who held moonlight in her pocket, was ticklish. He chuckled lightly at the irony of it. He felt her body shift off of him and onto the bench at his side, her head resting in the crook of his arm. He turned to look at her, blonde hair brimming the surface of the water poetically. He turned her chin upwards so her gaze met his. She stared at him, a look of stern perplexity upon her face. It was as if she were a marble statue in his arms—a work of art chiseled just for him.

“What kind of spell have you put on me, hmm?”

He blurted suddenly, almost in disbelief he had said it. She smirked devilishly and her hand searched in the water, finding his half-erect member amidst the black abyss.

“Shhh..”

She cooed, leaning into him as her grip promptly tightened over his cock. Their eyes never broke from one another as she began to stroke him gently. She worked her grip over him in an erratic motion, sliding over him quickly and then slowing down. He pushed his hips into her grasp without thinking. Her flaxen hair, wildly glued in plaits around her face, cascaded in wet locks over her breasts. Papa reached for her, brushing a few unruly tendrils from her line of sight and running his long fingers through it dotingly. He could feel his cock swelling in her hand and she began to pump more aggressively, as if willing him to spend in her palm. But he refused, gripping her hair firmly and pulling her closer to him in a possessive motion. She freed his cock, surprised by the shift of dominance but willingly acquiesced. He leaned over, his hand tangled in her hair as he supported her just above the water's surface. She grinned, his lips barely an inch from hers. 

"Is this a baptism?" 

Her words dripped with flirty sarcasm. As if in reply, he pressed his lips to hers, unable to wipe the smile from his face. They both laughed silently, lips touching in a delicate kiss until the act became more feverish. The humor faded as they were once again in the throes of passion. Papa lifted her from above the water, grabbing her arms and pinning them behind her back. He was throbbing for her and could barely contain himself as he watched the water droplets race down her ivory skin. 

Holding her wrists at the small of her back, Papa propped her over the pool's edge. He heard her gasp at the feeling of cold stone upon her bare breasts. He took this moment to look over her as she was bent before him. He watched her shoulders rise and fall with each breath she took. He noted the small puddles of water pooled within the defined indentations of her spine. The perfect apple shape of her milky white bottom cresting above her thick thighs. He could feel her wrists wriggle beneath his hand. She was growing impatient for what was next. Papa brought his knees to the pool bench, reaching down beneath the water to stroke himself and then grazing along the inside of her thighs. She met his touch with a quick inhale but leaned into him eagerly. He did not release his grip of her wrists, his other hand soon finding the peak of her womanhood, gently brushing the lips of her pussy with his finger tips. She moaned graciously. He went slow, ensuring that his touch was faint and taunting. His index finger traced where her two lips met, smooth and hairless. She shivered, pushing her hips backwards in hopes he would enter her. But he did not. Up and down, his path droned, barely allowing his fingers to make contact. He did this several times and then proceeded to extend his travels up along the line where the cheeks of her ass met, tracing all the way up and back again. Her urgency to break free from him was becoming more pressing and he tightened his grip, tugging at her wrists demonstratively, as if bidding her to stop. His fingers continued their gentle tracing until finally, as he traveled over the warmest part of her and without much effort, he felt the moisture begin to drip like a freshly sliced peach. He slid his finger between her lips now, motioning to her clit and back. Papa could feel her body tensing beneath his hand as she dripped for him. He continued to toy with her as she grew wetter still until he slowly slid his finger inside. She exhaled with an easy unease. She liked it. But it wasn't enough.

He brought himself closer to her until his hard cock bobbed at the base of her perfectly round ass. He held her wrists diligently in his grasp as he leaned over and kissed the nape of her neck and shoulder. He could feel her beneath him, legs spreading wider upon the stone bench to make his passage easier. The heat of her pussy was impossible to ignore. All of the teasing he had done had worked _himself_ into a knot. Papa released her from his grip and before she could enjoy her freedom, he took her wrists into each of his hands. Leaning over, his cock stood at attention, pressing against the heat of her. He stretched her arms over her head and with each inch he leaned, he proceeded to enter her slowly. When he was inside her completely, her hands held over her head, he remained still for a moment, breathing ardently into her damp hair. She began to grind her hips against him and with an admonishing tone he chides,

"When I am ready.." 

Her frustration was obvious. She wanted to be in control and he liked that about her. There was nothing more satisfying than commandeering the power from someone who knows they have it. He was tired of taking proverbial candy from babies. This candy was much, much sweeter. When she was still once more, he began to slowly pump into her. His hips thrusting fluidly, sliding himself in and out of her, re-entering her from the head to the base of his member a number of times. He released her wrists and placed his hands over her hips as if to steady her. Papa flew his head back as he kept his strokes steady and mechanical, the agony of it was delicious. But she began to circle her hips over him gently, matching his painful rhythm. His fingers dug into her in hopes this would stop her ardent motions but the pain of his tightening grip only seemed to spur her own. She was taking back control however she could and Papa was dizzy at the feeling of her swirling over him. 

His pace began to change, his hips rolling over her in a wave-like motion to meet her rotations. He pushed into her, his cock burrowing deep until he could feel the inner most part of her and she groaned, the size of him so large it almost pained her. He smirked as she pushed herself into his thrusts in acceptance despite the discomfort. Papa could take it no longer. He pulled from her entirely and as she turned to him as if to question his absence, he entered her in one assertive strike. She yelped at the sudden collision and moaned in gratitude. He thrashed into her, over and over, his balls slapping against her wet mound with each motion. She cried for him, begging him to fuck her harder and he could feel himself brimming to orgasm. With furrowed brow, he grabbed a fistful of her blonde hair and closed his eyes, drilling into her persistently. Her hips rose in wanton pursuit and her breathing quickened and once again her pussy choked his cock in spasms. Delicate moans turned to blazen cries as her orgasm overwhelmed her. This was all he needed and his pumping proceeded until the knot at the root of his cock unfurled and released spurts of his niveous potion deep within her. He gripped her shoulders and pulled her into him as deep, guttural groans fell from his lips before he lay upon her porcelain back, heaving from his efforts. 

After a brief moment of rest, Papa peeled himself from her and sat on the bench with an exhausted huff, the water lapping at the wall of the pool's edge in uneven crests. Phoenix joined him on the bench with a sigh as she lay crumpled against him, one arm around his shoulders, fingers dancing in his hair line mindlessly. Suddenly, she broke the silence as she rose from her seat. In a swift motion, Papa grabbed her forearm so she could go no further.

"Where are you going?" 

He inquired, as calmly as he could manage. Phoenix gazed down at him with a lackadaisical smile.

"It's getting late. I need to go." 

Papa stood to meet her, pulling her into him, skin to skin. His hand cupped the curve of her bottom gently. 

"Are you a pumpkin, mia strega?" 

Phoenix chuckled as her lips met his in a short yet passionate kiss. 

"You will stay." 

Papa commanded gently, his breath purling over her lips. Phoenix raised an eyebrow as if to question his mandate. He met her gaze with insistence.

"If I stay...what shall we do?"

She challenged, racing her finger nails along the line between his pecks. Papa leaned into her, kissing the tender flesh behind her ear. Their tête-à-tête drove him wild but he would gain control once more.

"I happen to love pumpkin pie..." 

Papa traced his hand around the innermost part of her thigh causing her to momentarily tense. Biting her bottom lip, she met his advance with a smirk. 

"I suppose I could stay a while longer."


	3. Getting to Know You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papa invites Phoenix to his living quarters for a little one on one time. He wants to know her better but nothing is ever straight forward with Papa Emeritus III.

Phoenix followed Papa down the dark, narrow hallway. When he suggested she stay, she didn’t really know what he had in mind. But her hand was tucked firmly in his gloved grasp as he pulled her through the winding corridors. He was focused on the destination, his formal vestments rippling at his sides. Phoenix grinned, her other hand gripping the black slippers she had worn on her walk to the chapel, her bare feet slapping against the hardwood floors as she trailed behind him.  
  
They stopped at the end of the hall and were faced with a large mahogany door with an antique brass doorknob. Papa glanced over his shoulder and the light was so dim that she could only make out the ominous silhouette of his face paint.  
  
“Here we are.” He stated matter of fact.  
  
Turning the old knob, the door opened with a creak to reveal his stately quarters. He led her inside and she eyed the space in awe. The walls were dressed in rich damask wallpapers, varying in colors depending on the room. A large Victorian couch sat in the middle of the main living space, juxtaposed to face a window at the corner and a large Persian rug and coffee table before it.  
  
“It’s good to have you here.”  
  
Papa interrupted her visual scan and she turned to lock eyes with him once more. His two-toned gaze captivated her more than anything in the room and she touched his arm with fervor without a thought. A grin flashed across his lips as he reached his gloved hand to her neck and pulled her into a gentle yet passionate kiss. Phoenix felt her face flush and a rush of heat brim between her legs at his touch. She turned away, pinching her lips together with a smirk. Papa chuckled at her sudden bashfulness, brushing a strand of flaxen hair from her face. Phoenix was not used to such tender intimacy. It was never something she ever thought she would want or need. But perhaps she liked it after all.  
  
“I want to know you.” He blurted, his voice deep and just barely above a whisper. Phoenix eyed him with perplexity, her brow furrowing slightly in question.  
  
“It’s fair to say you _know_ me pretty well already, hmm?” She teased, leaning back against the wall behind her. She watched as Papa casually removed his robe and leather gloves and slung them over the back of a chair in the corner. He wore a form-fitted black shirt underneath that revealed the lines of his chest and the small points of his nipples. Phoenix felt the rush of heat between her legs building.  
  
“I mean…I want to _know_ you. Who you are—what makes you tick.” Phoenix raised an eyebrow and gave him a suspicious grin. He smiled and took her hand.  
  
“Come. Have a seat. I’ll make you a drink.”  
  
He led her to the beautiful chaise style couch in the center of the open living space. It had rolled arms and ornate carvings in the cherry-oak wood with tufted cushions in a rich purple velvet. She sank into the crook of the armrest, her dramatic black cloak spilling over the seat around her.  
  
Papa made his way over to a traditional bar cabinet and began prepping their drinks. Phoenix watched him as he prepared the beverages with care—the ice, the liquor, and even a lemon twist which, for anyone else, would have been over the top but for Papa, it was an expected final touch. A crystal tumbler in each hand, he turned and made his way across the room. After offering up her drink, he took a sip of his own and instead of sitting on the couch, he plopped down on the floor before her, one arm resting on the couch cushion. He placed the glass on the coffee table next to him and swiftly dropped his hand on her knee.  
  
Phoenix looked down at him, admiring the slope of his shoulders beneath his thin, black shirt. The feeling of his hand on her knee made her legs separate slightly out of sheer instinct and muscle memory of his touch. Papa was pleased that he had such control over her. With a lazy grin plastered on his face, he drew invisible little circles with his finger over her soft flesh in approval.  
  
“So,” she started, lightly dragging her long black fingernail along the wrist of his other arm. “What do you want to know about me then?” She tickled her way down until his palm opened and she traced along the inside of each of his slender fingers, her eyes locked with his. She could feel his grip on her knee begin to tighten in anticipation. He grabbed her hand to abruptly stop her caressing and she threw him a raised brow in question.  
  
“We will play a game.” He said, his voice rich like the whiskey he sipped.  
  
“Very well. I like games.” She retorted, relaxing her wrist into his grasp and allowing him control.  
  
“For every question I ask you, you must answer it,” he paused for a moment and continued, “No matter what.” He focused on her face, eyes searching her expression fervently.  
  
“That is the only rule?” She inquired; a bit confused at the simplicity of it. “Doesn’t seem like much of a game. Games have challenges, you know.” She propped herself up on the couch a bit, feigning an arrogant smirk and taking a sip from her drink.  
  
“Mmm.” He replied, taking the drink from her hand, finishing it and sliding the glass onto the table behind him.  
  
“Wha---hey!” Her jaw dropped, scoffing at his audacity. He held up his finger with a sly grin.  
  
“Do you agree to these rules?” He asked. She rolled her eyes playfully with a nod.  
  
“Very well. So we begin.” His fingers tugged mindlessly at her thick cloak within reach.  
  
Phoenix blinked down at him, expectantly trying to understand what he was up to. He shifted himself a bit closer to her with an innocent grin.  
  
“What is your favorite color?” Phoenix laughed a bit at the simplicity of the question throwing him a look of disbelief. He shrugged, waiting for her answer.  
  
“Purple.” She stated plainly.  
  
“What is your favorite season and why?” He continued, his right hand gingerly placed on the top of her foot.  
  
“I prefer autumn,” She began, tilting her head to the side as she contemplated her reasoning behind her answer. “I like the crisp mornings and the changing of the leaves.” As she offered up her answer, she felt Papa’s fingers trace softly around her ankle and trail up the middle of her calf.  
  
“Ah, yes. That is lovely, isn’t it?” He replied, his hand firmly grasping her leg as he leaned down to kiss the outside of her knee gently. Phoenix inhaled deeply at the feeling of his lips on her skin.  
  
“Do you like to read?” He asked mindlessly, his focus on her milky white legs before him. Phoenix watched him earnestly, her hand gripping around the armrest of the couch.  
  
“I do. When I have time.” She answered, blinking down at him.  
  
“What is your favorite book, mia strega?” Phoenix felt a tingle race down her spine at the use of her pet name.  
  
“It’s hard to pick just one.” She started, trying her best to stay focused on answering his question. “If I had to pick…” Her voice trailed, tapering into silence as she felt his hand slide along the innermost part of her thigh. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back, savoring the familiar feeling of his hand between her legs.  
  
His caressing suddenly stopped, and she shot him a look of desperation. He smirked at her, his green and white eyes glittered with mischief.  
  
“Answer the question.” He commanded.  
  
Phoenix released an exhale, fluttering her lips out dramatically. “Ok, ok. Favorite book. Um.” Papa placed his lips on the inside of her leg, kissing at the knee and slowly working his way up. “Uh. Grendel by John Gardner.” She quickly replied. Through his kisses he retorted.  
  
“And what is it about, dear?”  
  
His hands slid beneath the underside of each of her thighs and he tightened his fingers around them possessively. Her mind was whirring as she locked eyes with him. “What?” She blurted.  
  
“The book. Tell me what it’s about.” He repeated, patient but stern. His hands slid further until he had her hips in his grasp beneath her black, velvet cloak.  
  
Phoenix gulped. “It’s the tale of Beowulf. Told from the monster’s perspective.” Her voice now carried a sense of urgency. Papa was leaning over her now, his hands around her waist beneath the billowing fabric of the cloak. He reached up and untied it from around her neck, slinking it from her shoulders and draping it over the back of the couch. He placed a delicate kiss on her collar bone before settling back down on his knees once again.  
  
“And what other hobbies do you have, Phoenix?”  
  
His interrogation continued and the sound of her name spilling from his lips drove her mad. She sat before him, entirely naked, watching as he perched between her parted legs. She didn’t want to answer any more questions. He had teased her enough. She lifted herself from the back of the couch, taking his face in her hands. She felt his ebony hair at her fingertips and before she could run her fingers through it, he grabbed her wrists demonstratively.  
  
“Remember the rules. You must answer my questions---no matter what.” He kissed the inside of her right palm and gently placed her hands back at her sides. “Your hobbies.” This time it was not a question.  
  
Phoenix was drowning in delicious frustration. “Painting.” Her answer was sudden and curt. Her fists clenched tight, white knuckles revealing her need for him. His hand found his way between her legs again and she gasped as his fingers tickled the soft lips of her pussy. Her breathing quickened, dying to feel him inside of her in whatever way he would oblige.  
  
“And what is it that you paint, mia strega?” He cooed, lightly brushing the tips of his fingers down her pussy again, teasing. He watched her intently, the pain in her eyes, the way she squirmed into the couch as if she were about to crawl out of her own skin.  
  
“Depends on my mood.”  
  
Her reply was generic and apparently not good enough. Papa pulled his hand away and leaned back away from her. Phoenix groaned.  
  
“Landscapes. People. Animals.”  
  
She quickly offered up her reply in hopes he would return to her. He reached back for his glass that was on the table behind him.  
  
“What was the last thing you painted?”  
  
He asked and then slugged back the whiskey in his glass. Phoenix, hating the absence of his touch, offered up her answer with a swiftness.  
  
“A horse. A horse in the stars.”  
  
He placed the glass back on the table and buried his face suddenly between her legs. His lips were cool from the whiskey in his glass and when she felt his tongue on her tender lips below, it was freezing cold from the ice cube he had hidden in his mouth. She yelped at the sensation as he slipped the ice cube over her clit, sucking her eagerly. Phoenix arched her back against the couch and pushed herself into his mouth, gripping the wood frame of the sofa. She savored the moment, knowing he could not ask her silly questions with his mouth full.  
  
The ice was melting. She could feel the cool water dripping between the cheeks of her ass and onto her cloak beneath her. The brush of his fingers returned to her again, this time sliding up and down her wet folds.  
  
“Please.”  
  
The involuntary plea leaked from her mouth. He kissed her mound and then her thigh, pulling away to look up at her, his fingers hovering there tauntingly.  
  
“Do you prefer mornings or evenings?”  
  
The smirk on his face made it abundantly clear he knew exactly what he was doing. Phoenix shifted over his fingers and released a soft moan.  
  
“Night owl,” she huffed as his fingers began to slip into her—first one and then another. “Ah, Papa…” He pushed into her deeper still.  
  
“Not a morning person?” He pressed, loving how difficult it was for her to speak.  
  
“For you…I could be.” She sighed.  
  
Papa moaned under his breath at her response. He placed his thumb over her clit and proceeded to rub as he pumped into her, relishing in her pleasure. All this teasing had left his cock so hard the seams of his trousers threatened to burst. He shifted uncomfortably, adjusting himself with his free hand. Phoenix reached out to him, digging her pointed nails into his shoulder through his shirt. He grunted with a wince, but he liked it. He drilled his fingers into her, massaging her clit in small circles.  
  
He sat up on his knees, planting kisses on her breasts, sucking on each of her nipples before whispering into her ear.  
  
“Will you cum for me?”  
  
Phoenix felt a swell deep inside of her and a white-hot heat rushed between her legs. He took her earlobe in his mouth and exhaled and with that she was fit to explode. She felt her walls pulse over his fingers, and she cried out as the pleasure rippled through her body. Her screams echoed through his chambers and out into the hallway. When her throbbing ceased, she lay listless over the back of the couch. His fingers were dripping with her aftermath.  
  
“Good answer.” He joked and she sighed with a spent giggle.


	4. Let's Duet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phoenix wakes to find that she fell asleep on Papa's couch. She finds him in his study where she intends on preventing him from doing anything of the like.

The sound of a bird startled her to waking and she opened her eyes to find herself a bit confused as to her whereabouts. The coffered ceiling didn’t look familiar at first. Her hands slid across soft velvet and she was immediately transported to the night before. She had not intended to sleep over and she looked down to find that she was wearing the black shirt he had been wearing the evening prior. Phoenix sat up from the purple cushions and eyed her surroundings. The bedroom door was open, but she could see the bed was made so she assumed he was not there. Gazing over the back of the couch, there were two large double-doors across the room. They were cracked.

“Hmm.”

Whatever that room was, she assumed he would be there. Her bare feet touched the ornate Persian rug and eventually met the cold hardwood floors. Upon reaching the cherrywood doors, she stopped and considered leaving. He left her to sleep on the couch last night. Was that cold or was it polite? She couldn’t quite tell what to think. Willing herself past the paranoia, she pushed on one of the doors which surprisingly opened without a sound.  
  
The room was large. Walls made up of bookcases and a sliding ladder to reach the ones at the very top. A massive bay window illuminated the space and the morning sun glimmered in the corner. On top of another ornate rug sat a grand piano, shining black in the sunlight. And just before the window was a desk covered in documents and opened books stacked within each other, fit to slide over and fall onto the floor. He stood at the corner, his back to her, leaning over the desk as he considered a sheet of paper with a quill in his hand. He was shirtless, his pale skin like the sands of a Jamaican beach. He looked like something out of a dream. But no dream could compare to the reality of flesh aching on flesh. And she was already aching for him.  
  
She tried to sneak up on him, snaking her way around decorative planters and statues of naked men and woman until she found herself standing at his back. She could see his cheeks lift with a smirk from her precarious angle, but she proceeded as planned, gently touching his waist with her long black nails and wrapping her arms around him completely.  
  
“Oh, you’re still here?”  
  
He mused, with a teasing lilt in his voice.  
  
She removed her arms and turned on her heels with a secret grin.  
  
“I suppose I’ll be going then.” Her tone lackadaisical.  
  
“Ah, ah.” He moved quickly, dropping his pen and grabbing her by the arm, spinning her into him gracefully.  
  
“I was only joking.” He reassured.  
  
“As was I,” she started with a devilish grin. “Surely, you didn’t think you could get rid of me that easy, did you?”  
  
Papa reached his hand to her face, tugging on her bottom lip dotingly. She pursed her lips into a playful pout, quickly grabbing his hand with both of her own, sucking gently on his thumb. A slight nibble turned into a smirk and she gazed into his two-toned eyes, spotting the fire she had ignited. He leaned into her, sealing his lips over hers in a heated kiss. She pushed against him passionately, sending him hard-pressed into the desk behind him, plundering his mouth with her tongue. Her hands wrapped around his neck, his hands on the small of her back as they kissed for some time until she pulled away lightly for a much-needed breath for the two of them. He dropped a delicate plip onto her kiss-swollen lips with his own, his hands searching over the fabric of his very own shirt to her nipples beneath. He leaned down, taking the tight bud of flesh in his mouth with a gentle bite through the black cotton. The pleasure of his touch filled her. She reached to undo his belt, feverishly unfastening the button and zipper. She could feel his rapidly hardening shaft and she reached for it, watching it bounce from its confines, highlighted against his black trousers. She wrapped her hand around him firmly, eyes glued to his own.  
  
“I think it’s time we play a game of my own.” She toyed, attempting to take control over this escapade.  
  
“Oh?” He questioned, and before she could hit him with a witty retort, he lifted himself from the desk and led her to the piano, holding her wrists behind her back in his grip. She stood before the keys, her nipples hardened to cut through the shirt, unable to move from his hold on her. She did not struggle. She was his to command…for now.  
  
Papa placed one foot between her own and gently ran his free hand all the way down her neck and over her soft mound, pleased when she unconsciously opened herself to his touch. He slipped a finger between her folds, searching for her clit as he nipped on the shell of her ear. She could feel his tender cock bobbing at the hem of her shirt, just at the crack of her ass. She laid her head back into his shoulder as he brushed against her, releasing her wrists. With one arm on either side of her, he leaned over the keys and began to play Sonata in A Minor by Domenico Scarlatti. After a few measures his left hand abandoned the keys in search of the tender flesh between her creamy thighs. His right hand continued with the lonely melody line for a few more measures until he turned his full attention to her naked form. She watched his hands play over her heated flesh.  
  
Forcing her forward across the keys, shirt lifted just enough so her breasts made cold contact with the piano lid. He pushed his leg further between her own, spreading her feet wider. The piano sputtered across the floor as her body pushed against it. Not quite satisfied, he continued to separate her legs with his hand from behind, kissing down her back and over her hips. Positioning himself behind her, she stood bent over the keys, fully exposed before him, red, like folding flower petals. He slipped a thumb inside. She moaned, leaning back into his hand.  
  
But Phoenix was ready to offer a performance of her own. She turned on her heels without warning assuming control once again. Her lips met his as her hand slid gracefully to his trousers, fervently stroking his rock-hard member, which leapt at attention, twitching in arousal. She closed her fingers around the hard shaft in her hand, smiling when his breath hitched. She slowly drew her hand down and then back up, loving the sensation of soft skin and heat, his hips arching into her palm. His cock jumped as she experimentally caressed the head, his breath seemingly stopped in anticipation, as he held his body still under her tentative ministrations. It was not until she lowered her mouth that he moved. His fingers twisted into her hair as her lips wrapped around his cock. She could hear how uneven his breathing was as he struggled for control. She ran the flat of her tongue across the head before blowing cool air over the moistened skin. He shivered against her chilling breath. Continuing with a spiraling motion of her tongue around the head in sloppy circles and then dragging it slowly up the underside, sucking firmly on the loose skin at the base. Papa’s muscles were clenching as she played with him, drowning in the sensation of her. Suddenly her hand and mouth both set around his cock as she began to slowly drag them up and down in fluid motions while her other hand softly caressed his sack.  
  
He released a pinched moan in the back of his throat, working his hands into her hair as if it might be the only thing anchoring him to the universe. He could think of nothing but the way she felt underneath his hands in that moment.  
  
The tight grip of her mouth around his member was intoxicating and as she swallowed him deeper, his balance faltered, one hand leaving her head and falling helplessly onto the piano keys, reverberating in a cacophonous crash of notes. He scoffed with a grimacing smirk as he felt her smile around his cock, her focus never breaking from her task.  
  
He instinctually thrust his hips into her mouth, and she teetered on her heels, the back of her head brushing along the ivories behind her. His balls began to tighten, promising the gush of cum that soon followed. He grabbed her head with both of his hands, drilling himself into her mouth as he spent his load into the back of her throat, excited bursts exacerbated by her strangled moans of delight and encouragement.  
  
He pulled from her, half-hard and hanging limp before her. She licked her lips graciously with a grin, her tongue still tasting the evidence of him. He tucked himself back into his underwear, his zipper undone and belt still hanging loose at his waist.  
  
She stood, pulling the bench from beneath the piano, motioning for him to sit. His ebony hair hung around his face, tiny beads of sweat collecting around his forehead, causing his face paint to smudge. She sat herself delicately on his knee, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and gazing down at him with a soft smile.  
  
"What is your name?”  
  
She asked him suddenly, her gaze unrelenting. She felt him tense beneath her.  
  
“Come now. You have asked me all manner of questions and I have answered them…mostly.”  
  
Her cheeks flushed a bit at her recollection of last night’s game on the couch. The silence stretched thick like strands of toffee.  
  
“Haven’t I have earned the right to know your name?”  
  
He locked eyes with her for a moment, a stern look plastered on his face. His eyes drifted down to view her milky white throat.  
  
“I need to have you again.”  
  
He prevaricated, taking the back of her neck in his hand, pulling her into him and planting a passionate kiss beneath her chin, sucking on her gently.  
  
“Tell me. Please?”  
  
She breathed patiently, enjoying his attentions but refusing to allow a distraction that refused her an answer. He pulled away just enough to meet her beseeching eyes. How could he resist such a plea from her? Running his fingers dotingly through the strands of flaxen hair around her face, he gave her a weak smile, his features soft for a moment.  
  
“Alessandro,” He stated gently. “My name is Alessandro.”  
  
Before she could reply, he returned his attention to her velvet neck, drawing a sound of excitement from her. His lips hovered delicately, breath purling over her skin as he felt her pulse throb with arousal. Her hands searched over his bare chest, calm at first and then in earnest as his kisses became deeper, shifting restlessly as heat blossomed in her belly. His hands raced over her breasts once again, pinching tightly drawn nipples beneath the black shirt before pulling it over her head to expose her supple breasts.  
  
His hand trickled over her flesh like a methodical waterfall. Washing around her shoulder and cupping her breast. Streaming over her waist until his fingers rushed down the curve of her hip and slowly dripped their way between her legs, where he was met with a current all her own. He parted her waters with his hand thoughtfully, one finger slipping up and down her wet channel. Her legs separated to allow him better access, his finger sinking into her easily as she let out a pathetic whimper that perfectly illustrated how desperately she wanted him. She clenched herself down around his hand and he gently tickled her clit with his thumb. She gasped, dropping her head against his cheek, shifting on his knee. His other hand rested at the small of her back to steady her. He chuckled to himself and inserted another finger, taking pride in the wanton moan that tripped past her lips.  
  
She could feel his cock pulsing beneath her leg as it remained confined within his pants. She reached down to rub her palm against his underwear just past the open zipper. He bit his lip and squirmed beneath her touch. He swiftly pulled his fingers from her and stood, slinging her over his shoulder, the piano bench squelching over the hardwood floors abruptly. She yelped as he adjusted his grip, jostling her with a little ‘hop’ before he carried her to his bedroom.  
  
It was another room she had yet to see as they had not made it past the living room last night. He threw her onto the bed and she looked around her. Classic Victorian style bed with dramatic spindles and carvings. Curtains with tassels and more rich wallpaper. The bedding was a deep red damask. It was ornate and overwhelming. Having gotten lost in her visual tour of the room, she looked back at Papa to find he was now entirely naked.  
  
Her eyes lit on him again and she was swimming in anticipation to have his hands on her—his lips. As if reading her mind, he slid across the mattress, his knees straddling either side of her as his hands trailed across her skin. Her body shifted in subtle invitation and he leaned over her, locking them in a fiery kiss, his hands ever searching her curves. He nearly melted. She felt amazing—her body lax and pliant.  
  
His kisses began to trail downwards, his hunger for her consuming him quickly. Her neck, her collarbone, her shoulders. He stopped to whisk her nipples into his mouth for a brief moment, encouragement spilling from her as she arched beneath him.  
  
Lower he traveled until he was perched at the edge of the bed, her pussy dripping before him. Inhaling the scent of her arousal, he slipped two fingers into her without warning. Pumping in and out of her slowly but none-too-gently, he licked languidly at her thigh.  
  
She let out a sputtering sound as he thrust a third finger inside of her, and once he moved them at a hard, fast pace, she was all but sobbing with pleasure. Her legs trembled as she struggled to keep them spread, and she was dripping wet. Her hands rested in his hair without doing much aside from quivering.  
  
She gasped and mewled pathetically, craning her neck and then moaning--possibly in pain, probably in pleasure. He had toyed with her so much these past couple of days that her nerve endings were fit to explode at a moment’s notice. With a smile on his lips, he pressed his face against her cunt and licked her clit. He flicked his tongue over the throbbing bud, and she thrashed weakly, moaning and whimpering, her fingers twitching slightly in his hair. He raised his head to watch the expression of stunned pleasure race across her face, coaxing her into a crescendo of need, her moaning growing more and more feverish. He hushed her and closed his eyes, sucking on and kissing the sensitive spot until she came with a feeble cry. Her climax twisted her features into a mask of almost agonized pleasure. But even then, he didn’t cease his rough thrusts—no, he kept going until she begged him to stop.  
  
“P-please,” she whispered, shakily, “please, stop. I-I can’t take it anymore…”  
  
He hummed, pulling his head back as his fingers continued to plunge into her, hard, fast, and deep.  
  
“What, mia strega, makes you think I have even half a mind to stop?” he asked, voice soft and smooth as silk. She whimpered. He smiled.  
  
He relented for a moment and admired her as she lay panting on the bed before him, her skin glistening with the aftermath of her efforts, reveling in the sensations still thrumming through her. He dropped onto his back next to her, his cock standing at attention, an indication his outward relaxation was only a courtesy to the exasperated woman beside of him. He closed his eyes briefly and listened to her steadying breaths. After a couple of minutes had passed, he felt her move from her spot on the bed as she crawled onto him, lapping her tongue down his chest, mapping every hard contour of him. Sinking lower, she bit at his flat stomach, dipping her tongue into the indention of his navel before swiping it over the head of his cock.  
  
She let one hand fall between his legs, which part diminutively, so that her little finger might press gently against his anus. She is careful not to imply entrance, but his legs quiver in approval as she continued to slide up and down upon the shaft, sucking lightly. He half-moaned, half-begged as his cock was milked hard and fast but he knew how to appreciate the gift of delayed gratification. Having already enjoyed his first release, he knew his stamina would withstand if he took over. He let out a primal grunt, grabbing her by the shoulders, flipping her onto her back. His hand traveled to greet her wet pussy that had left a dark, damp spot on his red damask duvet. He slid two fingers up and down and slipped them inside of her mechanically. She was near purring at the feeling of his touch as she rocked up against him in supplication.  
  
He demonstratively pulled her closer by the legs, letting his veiny cock graze along her stomach and dribble some pre-cum onto her porcelain skin. She exhaled an ardent sigh at the sensation of his warm, full length upon her. He withdrew his fingers and slotted his cock into the space they’d left behind, slipping partway into her and then stopping dead.  
  
Her arms stretched out, gripping at the crimson bedding as she threw him an admonishing glare for teasing her. She wrapped her legs up around his hips and pulled him forward while pushing herself up hard against him. He acquiesced and pushed himself into her with a deep, long moan, as he sank balls-deep into her wet heat, her tight walls gripping firmly. She inhaled aggressively, nails digging into his forearms as she grabbed at him before moving her grip over his back. He arched up into the light pressure of her hands, his hips moving in lazy circles in the cradle of hers. He changed the angle of his thrusts so that he was rubbing fully against her clit and was rewarded with a shudder as she clenched her slick muscles around him, pushing up as hard as she could against his hips.  
  
She cupped his ass, pale cheeks like granite as hard as his cock. She relaxed herself onto the bed and pushed him deeper into her with her hands. His body tightened with desire at her honest response. His tongue fell onto her clumsily, sampling her lips, her cheeks, her ear, her neck. A shudder of lust wracked her frame as his hot breath wafted over her recklessly. He lifted himself from her body to gaze upon her face as he maintained his steady thrusts, short and deep. Her eyes were shut, and her mouth was slack and open in a fine ‘O’, lips trembling slightly. Her eyes were like the brightest sapphires found on this Earth, and before he moved on in his seduction, he wished to see them again.  
  
“Open your eyes, amore mio,” he mused, possessiveness in his voice.  
  
She complied graciously, regarding him fondly but with more than a hint of frenzied affection. A knowing glint in his eyes, the muscles in his back bunched under her nails as he felt her body tense beneath him, straining to reach that pleasure again. His thrusting persisted more deliberately, willing her to cum. Her hands raced up his back and into his hair, clutching madly. And with that, the heat of her core burst, spreading through her as she arched up hard beneath his weight, legs flying up to wrap around his waist to let him sink just a fraction deeper as her walls strangled his cock in rhythmic pulses. Rapturous screams burst from her lips nearly synonymous with sobbing.  
  
He pulled himself from her and her chest heaved with labored breaths. But he would not wait for her full recovery this time, his own need too strong. He lifted her like a ragdoll, placing her head upon the pillows and she let out a surprised huff in response to his aggression. He spread her legs without missing a beat and before she could prepare, he slammed himself deep inside of her, making her scream out in what wasn’t entirely pleasure, and immediately set a hard and fast pace that had the witch reaching for the spindles of the headboard, squeezing it tightly and screaming out her pain-riddled pleasure.  
  
His cock was throbbing hard, his motions forceful, as he slammed into her. She felt the head of his member bury deeper still and with each thrust she was certain he might burst forth through her stomach entirely. His muscular arms rippled along either side of her head and in defiance of the pain his cock elicited in her, she spread her legs wider to send him plunging ever deeper.  
  
He groaned, sweat dripping from his brow and as her legs spread, he felt himself sink just a fraction more inside of her. He grabbed her legs, pushing her ankles over her head. She met him with a small whine followed by a carnal moan.  
  
“Yeah, you like that?”  
  
He bemoaned and withdrew almost completely, leaving only his swollen, purple head inside. She took a single breath and he surged upwards as if to punctuate the point, hands tightening around her shoulders as her legs fell over his, a rough sound escaping his lips, leaving her gasping with her mouth and eyes wide open. She could only nod in response, struggling to breathe as he plunged into her time and time again, pace gradually picking up and becoming rougher and rougher. Her grip on the old spindles of the headboard was all that kept her steady and she pulled on them, hearing the wood begin to splinter beneath her hands. He pumped into her vigorously and his pace began to quicken.  
  
“F-fuuuck.” He grunted under his breath and once again, she was fit to implode like a supernova.  
  
“A-Alessandro.” She coaxed, savoring the way his name filled her mouth how he filled her now. The sound of it trilling from her lips was enough to send him over the edge with her. Letting loose a bellow of triumph, he felt her slick channel convulse around him. As the throes of orgasm built in her, she pulled hard on the wooden spindles, shattering them into pieces all over the bed. He thrust rapidly into her writhing body, his own climax coming hard on the heels of her own, leaving him limp and replete on top of her.  
  
The pair lay listless for a good while, unable to move and entirely exhausted. Once they had caught their breath, Phoenix began to shift and before she could, he placed his hand over her chest to prevent her from moving.  
  
“Hold still.”  
  
He diligently plucked the splinters from her hair and off the bed so she would not hurt herself. She smiled in gratitude.  
  
“Such a gentleman.” 

  
She chimed, partly sarcastic and partly genuine. Papa stood from the bed with a stretch.  
“Alessandro! Your back!”  
  
She eyed the bloodied scratches that dripped down his back in small red beads, glittering like rubies.  
  
“Oh, would you look at that.”  
  
He stated, clearly amused.  
Phoenix sprung from the bed, concern evident on her visage.  
  
“Come. Let’s get you cleaned up.”  
  
He stood, with a grin.  
  
“Mmm. I do hope cleaning up with you is as fun as getting dirty.”  
  
He followed her into the bathroom obediently.


	5. Lupercalia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papa Emeritus III asks Phoenix to be a part of an important ritual. Little does she know...it involves blood of an unknown origin, copulation, and ...Papa Emeritus IV?!

Phoenix stretched and opened her eyes, the faint morning light peeking through the damask curtains. In a sleepy haze, she extended her arm across the bed in search of her lover to find that he had once again abandoned her in sleep. She sat up with a frown, crawling out of bed on a quest to find him. She made her way through the expansive apartment and confirmed that she was entirely alone. Her brow furrowed in frustration as she walked back into the bedroom, her bare feet slapping on the cool hardwood floor. Mumbling a bit under her breath, she was prepared to gather her things and leave when she spotted a letter on a table in the corner of the room. Her name was written on the front in his looping, elaborate scrawl. She rolled her eyes a bit and took her time opening the rich vellum envelope, to reveal a single page of his private stationery.  
  
It read ‘Put this on. Meet me in the sanctuary at noon. -A’  
  
Phoenix scoffed a little, looking down at the black nun’s habit that was draped over the chair. He expected her to wear this? A chortle bubbled past her lips. She held up the garment, looking at it with a discriminatory scowl. Without a second thought, she tossed the habit back on the chair. She knew she couldn’t wear what she had arrived in as it was a mere black cloak which left nothing to the imagination. But she was certainly not inclined to wear what he had intended. Not to mention she was notorious for disobeying “orders” just out of sheer principle.  
  
Phoenix began plundering through the wardrobe that was tucked into the corner of the room, hoping to find something else that would be more suitable. She filtered through a plethora of nun’s habits and as she started digging towards the back, she stumbled upon a long red satin dress with flowing chiffon sleeves. Intrigued, she pulled the garment out and looked it over. She pressed the dress against her body and determined it would be worth a shot to try it on.  
  
It was kismet. The dress fit almost perfectly, hugging her curves in all the right places with just enough stretch to allow her to move freely. Her breasts were a bit larger for the bodice to entirely accommodate but she managed to tuck them in without much struggle. Phoenix slid her slippers onto her feet and twirled gratuitously, the red fabric fanning like flames and sweeping the floor.  
  
She reached for the doorknob to make her way to the sanctuary and stopped for a moment, wondering as to who this dress might have belonged to. She bit her lip, beginning to question her decision. What if this was his dead mother’s dress? Or _worse_\---a former flame that he simply could not get over? Phoenix rubbed the back of her neck, assessing her next move.  
  
“Eh. Fuck it.” Out the door she went.  
  
She whisked her way down the halls, which were notably quiet and absent of passers-by. Arriving at the sanctuary, she pushed open the door and slipped into the shadows at the back. The pews were lined with a smattering of sisters in black and several other hooded figures she could not quite discern. And there he was, proud on the pulpit, lecturing his congregation. Phoenix leaned against the wall, still hidden in darkness, transfixed on him in his formal gold and purple robes. She felt the blood in her veins run hot at the sight of him. His focus on the delivery of his message was admirable and seeing him in such a passionate state ignited a fury in her.

  
She stepped forward a bit and he turned his attention to the sudden flash of red at the corner of the sanctuary and his sermon stopped dead. The congregation murmured for a moment, confused at the abrupt halt in his service. He eyed Phoenix with sharp eyes, hungry and earnest, and then swiftly turned to address his devoted audience.  
  
“That’s it. Get the fuck out.”  
  
Without hesitation, the assembly dispersed and exited the sanctuary, a few noting Phoenix on their way out with more than a curious glance. Phoenix didn’t move a muscle, a calculated decision which forced him to make the first move. He stepped down from the pulpit, his eyes locked on her as if she were his prey. She smirked, unrattled.  
  
He stood before her, so close she could feel the heat radiating from him. The gold fingernail of his black leather glove traced the neckline of her borrowed dress.  
  
“I don’t believe this is what I laid out for you.” His gaze was glued to her breasts which were near to spilling out into his palm.  
  
Phoenix grabbed his hand, imagining those gold fingernails gliding over her pleading skin.  
  
“You think me one of your obedient disciples,” She cooed. “But I am a wolf with no desire for sheep’s clothing.”  
  
“Do I need to remind you who your Alpha is?” Papa didn’t break eye contact, a devilish grin plastered on his face.  
  
Leaning in so her lips barely grazed his neck, she whispered seductively. “Only because I allow it.” She kissed the shell of his ear and pulled away slightly. “Need_ I_ remind _you_ where those scratches on your back came from?”  
  
Papa chuckled softly, taking her in his arm and pulling her close, his gilded nails digging against the fabric at the small of her back.

  
“Is that a threat or a promise, mia strega?"

Phoenix smirked, grabbing the front of his robe and pulling his lips down onto hers. She swallowed his tongue into her mouth and the heated exchange quickly led her hands in search for something more. To her dismay, he pulled away, restricting her wrists with a soft smile.  
  
“Come. Walk with me.”

He spoke suddenly, extending his hand as if they were a pair of timid lovers on a courtship stroll. She eyed him suspiciously and hesitated for a spell before placing her hand in his. He cleared his throat as they began to walk, his countenance curiously soft. Phoenix looked over at him as they made their way out of the sanctuary and into a dark corridor, lit only by sunlight through the small windows along the ceiling.  
  
“Tonight is a very special night.” He stated, his voice almost dreamy in essence as he continued.

“Lupercalia is one of the most hallowed nights of the year and I am very glad you are here to share it with us.” He squeezed her hand gently and Phoenix looked up at him gently.  
  
“What is...Lupercalia?” She was hesitant to ask, for fear of sounding stupid but she truly did not know.  
  
The pair stopped at a bench in front of a large window and he motioned for her to have a seat. He propped himself next to her, taking her hands in his.  
  
“Lupercalia is a celebration of the body. It is all about sexual liberation and revelry. Quite possibly my favorite day of the year.” The twinkle in his eye reminded her of a child on Christmas morning and she was near to giggling at both the irony of that comparison as well as his excitement.  
  
“And what is my part to play in all this?” She asked him gently, eager to know what this night of alluded debauchery had in store.  
  
A boyish grin dazzled across his visage, pleased that she was intent on learning more. He stood in a hasty motion, holding out his hands to her.  
  
“There is someone I would like you to meet.” His words spilled from his mouth in an excited rush. His pace was quicker now as he led her down a winding hall and around a sharp corner where they were abruptly met with an impending door. Papa knocked three times and without waiting, he turned the knob and led her inside.  
  
Phoenix was met with a decadent array of gold and black décor. The smell of cigars and cloves assaulted her nose but not in an unpleasant way. The air seemed to embrace her. Sheer black curtains dripped down the large windows and curled into puddles at the floor. She turned to Papa to find that he had already made his way into the next room. Stepping through the ornately carved doorway, she found herself in a study.  
  
“Come, come.” Papa waved his hand at her in a hurried fashion, bidding her to approach. Phoenix was awestruck and ordinarily, appeasing such a request would have been beneath her. But she needed direction in her current enamored state. This room was like a drug.  
  
Phoenix stepped closer with a hint of caution, Alessandro wrapping his arm around her waist. She looked down at the gentleman in the chair. He had sharp eyes but soft features, his hair a rich brunette which he wore slicked back atop his head. He sat slumped against the arm of his chair, a cigar between his fingers as he looked up at her with a slight grin on his face. Phoenix evaluated him, her eyes darting over the black suit and the tight pants which creased over his half-crossed legs. His face paint was similar to Alessandro’s but certainly not the same. A small, broken mustache lined his upper lip.  
  
There was a heavy pause before the stranger finally stood, crushing his cigar into the ash tray, and made his way over to sit on a large black leather sofa.  
  
“Sit. Let’s discuss.” He stated plainly. They followed, sitting in the love seat across from him.  
  
“So, Alessandro tells me he would like to include you in our Lupercalia ritual this evening.”  
  
Alessandro turned to Phoenix to gauge her reaction and she shifted in her seat a little. It was clear that this man somehow outranked Alessandro in some capacity. Suddenly, recalling her disdain for authority, she blurted without warning.  
  
“Forgive me…who are you?”  
  
The question fell from her lips a little harsher than she had intended but then again, she was not known for her tact and ability to stifle what she was feeling at any given time. The stranger smirked and looked over at Alessandro, who was grinning from ear to ear.  
  
He held out his hand in what she assumed was an attempt to shake in greeting but when she placed her hand in his, he kissed it in a chivalric display. Her lips parted in partial shock but before she could say anything, the man spoke again.  
  
“I am Alessandro’s successor, Papa Emeritus IV,” the ring of pride was evident in his voice and she could hear Alessandro scoff under his breath. “But you may call me Rafaelle.”  
  
Phoenix nodded and pulled her hand away from him with slight apprehension. Rafaelle leaned back into the couch with a smirk. She felt Alessandro’s hand toying lightly with the ends of her hair that trailed along her back.  
  
“Lupercalia is a deliciously sordid ritual involving the head of our establishment and another participant of the counsel’s choosing.”  
Phoenix gave pause for a moment, processing this. Alessandro could see that she was heavily considering what this all meant and finally he took it upon himself to remove any confusion.  
  
“You and Rafaelle will copulate while I oversee the ritual.” Her eyes grew wide as she turned to him quickly, her brow creasing with a questioning expression. She turned to look at Rafaelle who smirked at her with a wink, flicking a lighter to ignite another cigar.  
  
Alessandro leaned into her, a sweet whisper caressing her ear. “Only if you are comfortable, mia strega.”  
  
She postulated for a moment over several things. There was no question that she found this strange man attractive, albeit a bit arrogant. Not to mention ritualistic copulation was absolutely in her wheelhouse. However, the one thing that did bother her was the fact that Alessandro was so quick to pawn her off to another man. Granted, neither of them had any claim on the other and she _was_ an open-minded woman. It was clear now that _his_ open-mindedness knew few, if any, bounds.  
  
“I’ll do it.” She blurted, barely having given the concept any more than a passing thought. Rafaelle gave a curt nod and a smile.   
  
“Then it is decided!” Alessandro stood with a beat of excitement and Phoenix followed in form.  
  
“Wonderful. I will see you in the sanctuary at sundown.” Rafaelle took a long drag from his cigar and leaned his head back against the couch. Alessandro and Phoenix took their leave.  
  
When they arrived back at the door to Alessandro’s chambers, he cupped her cheeks in his hands.  
  
“I am overjoyed that you are joining our festivities this evening.” He curled a small strand of her blonde hair between his fingers, his other hand tracing over her waist.  
  
“And that the dress should find you and fit so well…” He said with a mysterious and whimsical tone. She clutched the dress in her hands, a bit taken aback that this was to be her trappings for the evening’s event.  
  
“I must go now. Lots to do. The sanctuary at sundown.” He pinched her cheek as she stood in the doorway of his chambers. “Don’t be late.” He winked and left her with her thoughts.

* * *

Phoenix spent the next several hours mentally preparing. She plundered through Alessandro’s bathroom drawers and discovered some makeup. A palette of dark eye shadows and a tube of vibrant red lipstick which was all curiously still packaged like new. She decided not to dwell on why any of this existed and proceeded to distract herself with a bit of preening. As the sun began to set, she started to grow a bit more anxious. Making her way to the decanter of whiskey, she poured herself a drink, chugging it quickly. Looking at the bottom of her glass, she decided that another drink wasn't such a bad idea. The whiskey sloshed into the crystal tumbler and she downed it without reservation. And then once more, she filled her glass. Sitting on the purple velvet couch, her veins ran warm as the whiskey coursed through her. She sipped from her glass and inhaled deeply. The sun was barely visible through the window. As she took her last sip and placed the glass on the table, she knew it was time.  
  
Arriving at the large double doors, the taste of whiskey on her tongue gave her the courage and fortitude she needed to turn the knob. When she opened the door, what she witnessed was unlike anything she had ever seen. There were mass clusters of candles all over, some in large candelabras and some sitting in puddles of wax on the floor. It was evident that part of this ritual had started without her. The entire room was cast in a nefarious red hue. Hooded figures stood all over the sanctuary, a dead silence looming that almost seemed to produce a vibrating hum. Alessandro stood in the middle of the room, holding a large silver bowl, the contents of which she could not yet see. A figure in a red robe stood before him.  
  
Alessandro spotted her approaching and motioned with dead eyes for her to step up. Upon closer inspection, she realized the red-robed man was, in fact, Rafaelle. Alessandro’s expression was serious and formal. Phoenix gave him a stern look, refusing to submissively avert her gaze. His face softened for the briefest of moments as he brushed her hair behind her shoulders before proceeding to reach into the bowl, which Phoenix now realized was filled with blood, whose she did not know. Rafaelle removed his hood and was met with Alessandro's thumb on his forehead. He ran it all the way down the bridge of his nose, over his lips and stopping at his chin, then created another line from one cheek over his lips and to the other. A blood-painted inverted cross dripped down Rafaelle’s face in a poetically grotesque bravura.  
  
Phoenix eyed Alessandro as his attentions now moved to her. She watched as he placed his finger back in the bowl, tracing the same symbol over her face. Locking eyes with him for a moment, she felt a twinge of disappointment in her gut that it would not be him engaging in this ritual with her this evening. He pulled his hand away, placing the bowl on a small table and stepping back. Only until now did she realize they were standing in a large pentagram drawn with what she assumed was the same blood she could now feel dripping down her lips.  
  
Rafaelle clutched at the tassel of his robe, tugging on the knot at his waist. The robe fell to the floor and he stood naked before her. He placed his hand on her waist and gave her a patient nod. When he motioned for her to turn, she knew it was to unzip the red dress she wore. She spun obediently and felt the metallic zipper whisk down her back. She slipped it over her shoulders and it fell in a hoop around her feet. Her back to Rafaelle, facing the pews of the large sanctuary, it was as if all the hooded bystanders had disappeared—all but Alessandro. Everything was still.  
  
Rafaelle ran his hands down her arms and the sudden sensation of his touch startled her. She heard him chuckle under his breath and in a swiftness, his hands gripped each of her wrists. She craned her head over her shoulder with a scowl. But before she could throw a snarky comment, she turned to Alessandro who was smirking at her as he shook his head admonishingly. She gulped, swallowing her pride and took a deep breath in. Rafaelle’s grip on her wrists grew tighter bringing her to her knees. She looked up at him with a showy obedience as he walked around to face her. There was a defiant look in her eyes that was offset by the softness in the parting of her lips and it was already driving Rafaelle crazy. He could tell she did not enjoy playing the submissive unless it was her idea.  
  
“Mmm. Such a good girl.” He bemoaned. She sneered.  
  
He grinned at her, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear approvingly, his cock hard and bobbing in front of her face. She leaned into his touch, Phoenix eying his member as it hung before her. He did not bare the length that Alessandro did, but he was substantially thick. She licked her lips, tasting the metallic twinge of blood on her tongue and eager to meet it with the weight of his cock in her mouth.  
  
“Go on,” he murmured, as if reading her mind. And without further prompting, he was enveloped into the slick excess of her mouth, which immediately went deeper than he had believed possible. He might have suspected that she was doing it for show when she pulled back and gasped, knowing that Alessandro was watching in a chair not 8 feet from them. But the sound she made was so shockingly vulnerable, and there were no words that could fully encapsulate the expression he witnessed on her face---achingly helpless desire. He smoothed a hand over her flaxen hair and she began to suck in earnest. He could almost pinpoint the moment she slipped into a swooning state as she was near to choking on his thick member.  
  
Alessandro watched the pair and he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He did not expect to feel this possessiveness over her. But as he grabbed his rock-hard cock, ready to burst beneath his trousers, his arousal by this haughty exhibitionism was undeniable.  
  
Rafaelle suddenly pulled his cock away from her, groaning at the absence of her mouth on his shaft. He fell to his knees on the floor behind her, his tongue tracing the helix of her ear and she moaned softly. It felt good, she had to admit: the wetness of his tongue and the warmth of his breath, the softness of his touch as his hands trailed up her spine. She reached her hand back to touch his head, his cinnamon-colored hair slipping through her fingers like sand. It was a rather intimate exchange that neither of them had expected. Rafaelle pulled away quickly.   
  
“Look at me.”  
  
He demanded, the order not particularly necessary, as he grabbed her chin and forced her to face him. She gazed into his two-toned eyes and he leaned over her, ghosting his teeth along her neck, leaving smears of blood from his lips in their wake. She felt herself melting away beneath his dominating presence as she was subsumed into his will. He must have felt it too because he gave a gratified moan in unison with her.  
  
Rafaelle grabbed the bowl of blood, dipping his fingers into it and slowly letting it trickle over her shoulders. It was cold and Phoenix reacted with a shiver. Rafaelle chuckled slightly under his breath, finding her jumpiness as delightful as a spider who feels a fly tugging in its web. Blood dripped down her shoulders, trailing over her round breasts like garnets. As the blood traveled across her skin in slow rivulets, the pleasure only grew, but so, too, did the need. She turned to face him, leaning closer in and began to rub herself against his attentive length. He was quick to meet her advances with a fiery earnest, his hand lightly dancing along the lips of her pussy until he opened her up like a crocus flower, slipping two fingers inside. Ecstasy coursed through her as her entire world narrowed to Rafaelle and the exquisite joy of his fingers inside of her. His thumb found her clit and made small circles against the aching bundle of nerves. She leaned back, her awareness fading. She could feel Rafaelle’s strong arm around her, the heat of his body, the wetness of his blood-stained lips as they dappled over her breasts, the delicious way his erection pressed against her. It was enough to drown in, but just as she was prepared to give herself up to it entirely, she remembered Alessandro who was still watching by the wayside. She could feel his impenetrable gaze on her. She opened her eyes and turned to him but Rafaelle was quick to bring her attentions back to his fervent ministrations. His hand was freshly dipped in blood and he wrapped it around her neck, forcing her to focus on him and him alone. The chilled blood dripped down her lily-white chin and she whimpered beneath his grasp.  
  
He pulled her into him, crashing his lips down on hers in a rough and passionate kiss. She went limp in his arms, her body pressed tightly to him, the blood on her skin transferring in messy stamps onto his, matting the patch of hair that sprouted from his chest. Both of his arms wrapped tightly around her as his tongue danced with hers in a violent euphoria, the blood tasting like copper in their mouths. A primal hunger consumed her and she laid back, pulling him down onto her. She wanted him inside of her. She _needed _him inside of her.  
  
As if he had heard her mind’s call, he reached down and grabbed his cock, throbbing and already dripping with pre-cum. She felt the tip slide against her wet clit and she arched her back with a moan. The teasing was making her mad with passion. He lingered there, refusing to enter her as she lifted her hips, wordlessly begging for him to proceed. He smirked as he admired the swollen, slippery peak between her legs, flushing pink and ready to consume him. Circling her entrance, he pressed softly and then pulled away. Phoenix squirmed with a whine. Again, he pushed against her tight threshold, just enough to feel her relax a bit before pulling out again. She balled her fists in frustration and a third time, he teased her pussy with the head of his cock, pulling out almost as quickly as he had dared to enter. As if he had lit a fuse within her, she rose from the floor in a heated frenzy, defensive and ready to take what she so desperately wanted. She didn't get far, his hand finding her throat again as he pushed her back to the floor and entered her with vigor. She cried out in both shock and relief as he buried his cock into her. A loud moan fell from his lips, the feeling of her drowning his member more intoxicating than he could have dreamed.  
  
Alessandro was on the edge of his seat as he watched. The intimacy of that moment was almost his undoing. He felt a rage and an arousal burning through him like a wildfire. He gripped the bulge in his pants, leaning against the arm of the chair. Completely stiff and ready for the assault, he remained seated, watching the pair as their tryst continued.  
  
Rafaelle kept still inside of her for a moment, relishing in the sensation of her tight walls constricting around him. He pulled out again and she inhaled as if she had been submerged in the ocean unable to breathe. He forced the head inside again and she groaned low in her throat, a pained sound, which had Alessandro leaning forward in concern. Then she nodded a little, opening her legs wider, allowing Rafaelle to hold her in place as he pushed farther in. It was a brutal invasion: slowly stretching her on the thick girth of his cock, over and over again. He looked down to where his cock was half within her, then glanced over at Alessandro, marking his hungry, concerned expression, and then shoved forward a little again, as if taunting the man seated in the corner.  
  
“So tight…” he breathed, his eyes on Alessandro, a malicious smirk donning his visage.   
  
The evil thought struck him that if Alessandro weren’t there, he wouldn’t be so gentle. He was dying to drill himself into her entirely with one agitated thrust. He looked down at Phoenix, the wanton expression on her face telling him she would surely enjoy the ride he’d take her on. But Alessandro was there, and so Rafaelle held himself above her, allowing her time to adjust to his girth, and only moved forward when she nodded her assent. Rafaelle place one hand on her chest, holding her down, as he slid the rest of the way in. The pressure was sordidly maddening: his cock gloved firmly by the warm, tight walls of her pussy. He had caught himself in lewd imaginings of plowing into this sorceress that had left Alessandro so helplessly defenseless, fantasizing about this forbidden body he’d been permitted to sample. He braced himself and counted to ten in an effort to stop himself from cumming immediately from the wonderful depravity of it, then began to thrust deeply, watching her, fascinated, as she quivered with delight.  
  
She was immersed in the moment. The feeling of his thick cock crammed inside of her was enough to send her into rapture, but she turned her head and opened her eyes, locking her gaze with Alessandro. They stared at each other as Rafaelle panted and gasped over her. She could feel her orgasm brimming as she looked at Alessandro, her walls squeezing over Rafaelle’s cock in rippling pulses.  
  
Alessandro bit his lip as he stared down at her, letting his hand wander to his crotch as he watched the pair, her orgasmic cries like a familiar drug to his ears. Rafaelle glanced over to see Alessandro fondling his own cock through his clothes, repositioning in his chair with lust. Upon the realization that Phoenix was more focused on Alessandro than himself, Rafaelle pulled himself from her as she lay there, catching her breath. 

“Knees.”  
  
He barked, miffed that her orgasm was inadvertently activated by Alessandro. Phoenix, her mind still whirring from her moment of pleasure, mindlessly sat up on her knees for him. Rafaelle, determined to reclaim the spotlight, took his cock in one hand and ran it lightly against her lips. She opened her mouth submissively and he slid it in. She took the head of his cock into her mouth slowly, giving it a harsh suck as she savored the taste of herself on him. Grinning around his girth, she watched with satisfaction as he arched his neck in response. Mercilessly, she took more of him into her mouth, sliding her tongue along the shaft with shameless flagrance. Rafaelle gave a breathy moan and clawed his fingers into her hair. She began bobbing her head, lathing his cock with her tongue before slurping at the head noisily. Rafaelle balled his fist and bit down onto it in an attempt to avoid an outward cry of pleasure. But she wanted to hear it. She could feel the tension in his thighs, in the hard gusts of breath he was failing woefully to control. She sucked him until he was gasping and pleading and suddenly blurted her name with a delectably painful tone to his voice, the sound reverberating through the sanctuary.  
  
Alessandro growled low in his throat. Rafaelle's echoing moan further taunted him. He wasn’t happy. He stood up and unfastened his belt, letting his pants drop to the floor. He joined the pair, grabbing Phoenix by the hips and forcing her on all fours. Rafaelle looked at Alessandro, an exchange of dominance taking place as he dropped to his knees, his cock still planted in the deepest part of her throat. Alessandro plunged forward, taking her from behind in one smooth motion. She was accustomed to his girth and his style of sex, and relaxed as she let Alessandro have his way with her. She tried her best not to let her focus falter from Rafaelle’s cock. But, oh, how she love the way Alessandro alternated between short, fast thrusts and then stronger, deeper thrusts forcing her forward, Rafaelle’s cock slamming deeper into her mouth. She could barely make a sound beyond a mewl as she sucked on the man before her and received her pounding from Alessandro from behind.  
  
Without much of a warning, Rafaelle gushed forcefully into her mouth, pulling from her with a drawn-out gasp. He watched as she swallowed his seed and then licked her lips with a moan. But she didn’t look up at him. Slowly she lowered her head onto her folded arms, holding herself up subserviently as Alessandro continued to pump into her. For that moment, it was just the two of them and she surrendered herself to his will. Rafaelle watched in the foreground, cum dripping from his spent cock, as Alessandro grabbed her hair, pushing into her aggressively while reaching around and rubbing her clit. She quickly found herself sinking into yet another orgasm so intense it brought tears to her eyes. The kind of orgasm which had always been just tantalizingly out of reach. She cried, frantic and so deliciously pleased. Dropping her head down, her forehead brushing the floor, she was wild with abandon. The way he made her feel, the things he did to her body—she never imagined a man could do all of it at once and with such prowess. It was as if he was carved, created from dust, for her sole satisfaction. The sound of her euphoric cries as she oscillated over his cock made Alessandro burst forth, his own orgasm tearing through him as he released deep inside of her.  
  
Rafaelle lingered, dumbstruck on the sidelines. His jaw was tense and his eyes jealous with lust. He covered himself with his robe quickly, his cock already half-hard again. It was a good thing he was well practiced in hiding his instant ardor in public. For a moment, he could have sworn that Phoenix noticed his arousal and smirked in his direction. It was clear she would have an unpredictable inclination towards testing his limits.  
  
Alessandro slowly unsheathed himself from her, watching with satisfaction as some of his aftermath leaked out and dripped down her legs. He reached down and rubbed it into her thighs with a remote, dreamy expression mirrored by her, who watched him with half-lidded eyes. Leaning into her, he kissed her neck softly and whispered, “Mine.”  
  
The look on her face was that of shock and satisfaction. She had not been expecting such covetous feedback. She relaxed onto the floor, inhaling deeply as she enjoyed the conclusion of the ritual. Alessandro and Rafaelle stood to the side, their voices low and serious, but she could not hear what their conversation was. The hooded figures that stood throughout the sanctuary had now mostly vacated. As Alessandro began snuffing candles, Rafaelle approached Phoenix, holding out his hand to help her off the floor. She smiled as he pulled her up, standing to her feet. He wore his red robe again, partially closed, his chest hair peeking out. He offered her a blue and black garment to pull over her head to cover herself. She slipped into it graciously.  
  
“Thank you.” She managed, mildly suspicious at the noble gesture.  
  
Having had such an intimate night with someone she had barely spoken 6 words to…it was an odd feeling. She ran her hands over the formal looking vestment she wore.  
  
“I’ll need that back.” He breathed with a grin, touching her chin with his index finger. “Meet me tomorrow in the library at 10.”  
  
Phoenix opened her mouth to speak but before she could protest, he winked at her and hastened out the side door, leaving her dumbfounded.  
  
She gulped and turned to look for Alessandro, who had just snuffed the last set of candles. He took her hand, kissing her cheek as they walked out of the sanctuary and back to his quarters.  
  
“Why are you wearing Rafaelle’s papal robe?” He inquired, trying his best to quell the irritation and jealousy in his voice.  
  
“He offered it to me…since I was naked.” Phoenix eyed him with a chuckle. He gave a brief pause and shrugged it off.  
  
“I quite liked you better naked.” He teased. She rolled her eyes and they laughed as they got ready for bed.


End file.
